


Impala Sex Because Reasons

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Comeplay, Creampie, First Time, Impala Sex, Light BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:06:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2752196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The first time Dean kissed Cas was totally out of his control. He may have been a little drunk, and the music at the bar may have been a little loud, and he may have had something he needed to tell Cas that he had to lean in for."</p><p>***</p><p>Wherein Dean and Cas fuck in the Impala for the first time. That's it. That's the whole thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impala Sex Because Reasons

The first time Dean kissed Cas was totally out of his control. He may have been a little drunk, and the music at the bar may have been a little loud, and he may have had something he needed to tell Cas that he had to lean in for.

So Cas leaned in too, and by the time Dean got close enough to say whatever it was he needed to say, it completely fled out of his brain, which filled up rapidly with the wonderful, warm scent of his angel.

He rested there a moment, poised, eyes crossing to look down the long length of Cas’s neck, obscured by his trench coat. Without meaning to, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to it, solid and gentle, mouthing at the soft skin under Cas’s ear.

Dean felt Cas tense underneath him, felt a breath of air as Cas gasped. As though Dean’s lips no longer belonged to him, he trailed open-mouthed kisses upward until finding his lips. Dean cradled his face in his hands and guided Cas’s lips over his own, opening his mouth and sweeping his tongue inside, tasting beer and feeling the rough sandpaper stubble of his chin scratch his face. He trailed his fingers up into Castiel’s hair, carding through it and pulling slightly.

Dean couldn’t believe he was  _actually kissing Cas_. Moreover, he couldn’t believe the angel was kissing _back_. He wasn’t surprised that Cas was an amazing kisser though, with those beautiful lips and that soft mouth that Dean on more than one occasion imagined around his dick, imagined fucking his mouth while Cas swallowed him down, staring up at him with those fierce blue eyes as he came down Cas’s throat.

The thought put him on edge, and he pressed forward until Cas’s knee was in his crotch. Dean let himself hang onto Cas, because what was the good in being in love with an angel if he couldn’t utilize his superhuman strength. Cas kept him upright, bunching his shirt in his fists and pulling him in to kiss deeper, not giving a fuck that they were in the middle of a busy bar in bumfuck nowhere, surrounded by people who still said shit like, _“them queers,”_ and, _“homosexuality is a sin, says so in the Bible,”_ with a lazy, knowing nod while the rest of the country rolled their eyes.

Dean didn’t care about any of that, though, because he was with an  _angel_. Of the  _Lord_. He could smite anyone’s ass who  _looked_ at Dean wrong, and he had that on good authority because Cas was protective as fuck, and everything about this moment was making Dean’s cock ache in his jeans. He was close to begging Cas to drag them back to the motel so that they could fuck, so that Cas could press his face down into the mattress and plow into him…

“Cas,” Dean exhaled, a ragged breath, a prayer.

“Dean,” Cas whispered in response, pulling away slightly and looking into Dean’s eyes as though he were the most important man in all of existence.

“Can we…” Dean trailed off, not sure quite how blasphemous it was to be begging an angel of the Lord to sodomize him whenever and however he wanted.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to speculate on that too long, because Cas was already nodding in agreement, leaning forward and pressing another kiss to Dean’s lips while he trailed his hand down his ass and gently plucked Dean’s wallet from his back pocket.

He opened it and slapped a twenty on the bar, then folded it up again and reached around to slipping it back into Dean’s jeans, sliding his hand over his ass gratuitously while maintaining eye contact and darting his tongue out to lick his lips.

Dean moaned, literally  _moaned_  at the sight of it, itching out of his skin with pure  _want_ , and he didn’t know how things got this bad, why he waited so long, why tonight was so special after so many years of acknowledging what was happening between them but never acting on it.

If all it took was a loud bar on a boring night to push Dean over the edge into exploring his latent homosexual tendencies, he would have quit hunting years ago.

Cas stood and grabbed Dean’s wrist, pulling him off the barstool and stumbling out of the bar into the chill autumn air.

When they reached the Impala, Cas spun Dean around and slammed him against the driver’s side door, slotting his knee between Dean’s legs and kissing him like it was their last night on earth.

Given Dean’s occupation, that wasn’t entirely out of the question.

Cas’s hands were everywhere: underneath Dean’s shirt, running up and down his back, rubbing gently upward then scratching back down until Dean gasped into his mouth; groping his ass with abandon; reaching up to his chest to roll Dean’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger while sucking on his bottom lip.

Like a teenager, Dean rutted wantonly against Cas’s thigh, strong like steel and almost entirely supporting his weight. His dick was so hard that it hurt, the band of his jeans wrapped tight around his cockhead, and he didn’t even fucking care if they ended up fucking in the middle of a goddamn parking lot, he needed Cas inside him and he needed it  _now_.

Cas was already one step ahead of him, clutching one of his hips while he reached over and popped open the back door of the Impala, then ushered Dean inside, laying him back on the seat and climbing between his legs before closing the door behind him.

Fucking an angel was the best idea Dean ever had, because the next moment he was completely naked, the leather of the seat cool against his back, and Cas trailed rough kisses down his neck, down the center of his chest, down his stomach, then paused at his navel, purposefully avoiding his cock which was leaking onto his stomach.

Cas was still fully clothed, trench coat and all, and stopped to stare at Dean’s dick. He tilted his head to the side as he inspected it, then looked up at him. His lips were so close to the tip of Dean’s cock that Dean was half tempted to thrust his hips upward, feel the rough stubble of Cas’s chin on the soft skin of his shaft. He resisted, and Cas asked, “Do you want this, Dean?”

Dean almost laughed, half-hysterical with want, and all he could do was choke out a, “God, yes,  _please_ , Cas—“

And then Cas had the head of Dean’s cock in his mouth. Obscene noises came out of Dean's throat, loud and embarrassing, because the soft warmth of Cas’s lips were wrapped around his dick; his hands, those long, lithe fingers that Dean stared at endlessly were exploring him, trailing down and cupping his balls. He sucked down deeper until Dean’s cock was at the back of his throat, and Dean could feel Cas swallow around him, throat constricting, and it took the breath completely out of his lungs.

Dean threaded his fingers in Cas’s hair and tried not to thrust into his mouth. He gritted his teeth and panted, relishing in the warm wetness and expert tongue of his angel laving at him.

Suddenly, Cas pulled off, and, using the same level of intense seriousness with which he always spoke, said, “You can fuck my mouth, Dean.”

And  _Jesus_  if Dean didn’t almost come right then and there.

Cas bent back down over him and pulled him all the way into his throat, resting his hands on his hips. Dean grabbed his hair again, this time pulling slightly as he held Cas’s head between his hands and thrust his hips up into him, hitting the back of his throat over and over again, picking up speed and fucking his mouth harder, faster, watching him the entire time. His hips snapped upward as Cas took him in, mouth wide and watching Dean watch him, eyes darkened with lust. The leather of the seat stuck to his back, the windows fogged with the hot air of the car meeting cool glass, a thin sheath of sweat covered his skin, and Cas was somehow  _still_  dressed.

Cas’s finger grazed Dean’s perineum then slowly trailed down to circle his hole. Dean opened his legs as wide as they’d go, hooking one over the backseat and letting the other fall so that the bottom his bare foot rubbed against the rough, old floor mats of the car. The small space allowed him only to pant and writhe and thrust his hips, pull Cas’s hair and choke out obscenities and pleas.

The stuttering of his hips grew shallow and erratic as he continued fucking into Cas’s face. _“Fuck,_ I’m close—“ he groaned, watching Cas’s face in the dim light of the full moon streaming into the Impala.

He pulled at Cas’s hair, harder than he intended, and he moaned around Dean's dick. The vibration pushed him over the edge; he came with a shout, eyes clenched tight as he rolled his hips into Cas’s mouth. He felt Cas swallow it all down, and it was so fucking hot that Dean thought he would come again just at the thought of his all-powerful angel taking his load.

When Cas finally pulled off, he wiped his mouth and stared at Dean intently, the undulating power within him making the air in the car electric. Cas hadn’t looked at him like this since they first met in that barn all those years ago. It felt like another lifetime. Dean thought that all the street lights would pop at any moment, and a thrill went down his spine because he realized he was a tiny bit afraid. And yeah, that was all manner of fucked up, but god if it wasn’t hot as hell for such a powerful being to be resting between his legs, lips swollen and spit-slicked, hair an absolute mess, blue eyes so deep that Dean thought he might drown in them.

Dean panted, gasping for breath, one hand clutching the headrest of the seat, white-knuckled as he waited for Cas’s next move.

It appeared that the angel had lost all of his patience, because the next moment, Dean was sitting up, straddling Cas, who had one angel-mojo’d, lubed-up finger pressing at his entrance.

It was too much to process, so all Dean could do in response was clutch at Cas’s trench coat and gasp, relishing in the feel of the sweet intrusion and fighting every urge to sink down onto it.

He was completely out of words, but he managed to choke out, “Naked,  _please_ ,” and with a rush of air, he opened his eyes to find Cas naked, all sharp lines and tan skin, broad shoulders and chiseled form.

It turned out that Cas wasn’t an angel at all. He was a fucking _god._

When he finally pressed in to the first knuckle, Dean groaned again, forcing himself to keep still, so he pulled Cas in for a fierce kiss, tasting himself on the sweetness of the angel’s tongue.

Cas reached up and touched two fingers to Dean’s forehead. Dean was pretty sure that angels weren’t supposed to use their magic for teleporting two inches away into a different position, making clothes disappear to who-the-hell-knows-where, pulling lube out of thin air, and, now, lowering Dean’s refractory time to nothing.

But they apparently did and Dean had no complaints. 

Dean was immediately hard again and leaking, sensitivity from his intense orgasm waning already as his cock grazed the taut, hot skin of Cas’s abs.

Cas finally pushed his finger in all the way, and Dean couldn’t help himself: he sat down further onto it, egging Cas to go ahead and add another. He needed it. He needed Cas.

Thankfully, Cas had as little patience as Dean did, so a second finger entered him, scissoring him open, and it was probably too soon because it burned, but god, it didn’t even matter. He needed the fullness of Cas’s fingers, of his cock sinking into him.

“Another,” Dean whispered against Cas’s lips.

Cas added a third, then crooked them forward to graze over Dean’s prostate. He cried out, muffled in Cas’s neck, fucking onto his fingers with abandon, losing all semblance of self-control as his body sought what it wanted.

Cas fucked in and out of him with his fingers, spreading him wide open, pressing against his prostate with each thrust. Dean could barely catch his breath, mindlessly sucking hickeys onto Cas’s shoulders and neck and collarbone which healed as quickly as he could make them.

So he sucked harder and fucked faster until he thought he was going to come, untouched, from prep alone.

“Fuck me, Cas,” he whispered, breathless, grazing his lips against the shell of Cas’s ear, thrilled when the angel shuddered and moaned in response.

Cas pulled his fingers out and slicked his dick up, then slid further down the seat so he could position Dean on top of him. Dean reached back and lined Cas’s dick up with his hole, then slowly sank down onto it, feeling the blunt head of Cas’s cock breach his rim, stretch him open wider than Cas’s fingers had been able to, loving the blissful burn of being filled completely.

He pulled off and then sank back down further, watching Cas’s head roll back onto the seat, teeth gritting to stave off the attempt to fuck into Dean with abandon, gripping Dean’s hips so tight they left bruises that Cas could heal later with angelic kisses.

Dean finally bottomed out in one smooth motion, resting for a moment to adjust to the fullness, breath caught in his throat, taking the moment to kiss Cas slowly for the first time, languid and gentle.

Cas rolled his hips up to push in deeper, and Dean moaned, lifting up and then sliding back down. Cas fucked up into him at the same time, and they continued, finding a rhythm and rocking together, the slide of sweat-covered bodies and the sounds of breathless grunting and moaning, fingers pushing and pressing and pulling at each other as they lay sloppy kisses wherever they could reach.

Dean’s cock dragged against the smooth skin of Cas’s stomach, trapped between their bodies and providing him with just enough friction that he couldn’t come from it alone, and the angle they were at wasn’t hitting Dean’s sweet spot nearly as much as he wanted it to.

As though Cas could read his mind—and hell, he probably could—he used his angel mojo to teleport them into a different position, this time with Dean on his knees across the backseat, face pressed against the cool leather while Cas held his wrists tightly behind his back.

Cas entered him again, this time without an ounce of gentleness, pounding into him with a fervor, hips snapping and cockhead sliding repeatedly against Dean’s prostate, over and over again until he was screaming, muffled in the seat, trying his damnedest to meet Cas thrust for thrust, but he had Dean locked down, completely still. All Dean could do was beg for Cas to keep fucking him, to fill him up, to pound into him harder, faster, deeper.

The muscles of his shoulders ached with the position, pulled back taut and harsh. Dean didn’t know where the hell Cas learned this shit, but damn if he wasn’t loving every second of it, every soft moan that escaped Cas’s lips, every thrust, every brush of a soothing palm up and down his ass.

Dean’s cock hung between his legs, hard and heavy, dripping all over the place in a steady stream of cum that ran down his leg.

He was reaching the edge again, the intense frustration of not being able to fist his own cock, coupled with Cas pounding into his sweet spot. It was going to break without him even being touched. He didn’t know his body could _do_ that, but he was about to meet the point of no return, the hot coil building up in the base of his spine, balls contracting, cock hardening to the point that it throbbed.

 _“Fuck_ , Cas,” Dean moaned into the seat. He couldn’t manage the rest of the sentence, couldn’t figure out a way to communicate to Cas that he was an inch away from coming, but he didn’t have to, because Cas’s thrusts were becoming erratic, his soft moans were growing louder and more frequent, his deep gravel voice thick with lust and panting, vice-like grip on Dean’s wrists sweaty but no less yielding.

“Dean,” Cas growled out, and it was that one word, that one sweet admonition which somehow said all the things they’d never said in words. It pushed Dean over the edge, and he came again, breath stopped in his throat which exhaled in a low groan. He felt his ass shudder around Cas’s cock, and then he felt the angel coming too, deep groans escaping his lips as he continued fucking into him, deep and slow, filling his ass completely.

Cas let go of Dean’s wrists and slid out of him. Dean could feel cum pooling out of his hole, running down his balls and legs, hot and wet and filthy.

Before Dean could collapse, Cas ran a gentle hand over his spine, and when Dean blinked, they were in their motel room, under the covers, still naked but clean.

Dean noted that the harsh bruises on his body had been healed but his ass was still sore, and he chuckled into the crook of Cas’s neck.

“What?” Cas asked, and Dean could hear the smile play on his lips.

“Why did we fuck in the car if you could have teleported us here?”

He felt Cas shrug around him. “I guess I’ve just always wanted to have sex in the backseat of the Impala.”

Dean grinned and nodded, then threw an arm over Cas’s side, sleep pulling at the edges of his mind. Before he succumbed to it, he asked, “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Thank you.”

Cas hesitated for a moment before replying, “For what?”

For pulling him out of hell. For saving his life on countless occasions. For defying heaven for him. For always being there when he called. For loving him at his worst. “Just… for being you.”


End file.
